The Past's Dark Touch
by Madam Diabolique
Summary: A peek into Jack and Riddick's thoughts soon after their escape.
1. Jack'S POV

Title: The Past's Dark Touch

Pairing: None, Jackcentric

Summary: A peek into Jack's thoughts soon after their escape.

Disclaimer: I do not own Jack, Riddick, Iman, Fry etc. If I didd Riddick would be my personal sex slave ;).

Status: Complete

Jack gazed at Riddick as he slept in the pilot's chair. He was her savior. He had saved her from those God forsaken creatures on that deserted rock. Yeah he had saved her, but for what ... she had no home; nowhere to go. What had he really saved her for? To live on the streets from day to day not knowing where her next meal would come from, wondering if each night on the streets would be her last. She had spent the better part of 17 years doing that. And them an Aunt that she never knew she had scraped up enough credits to come and find Jack and bring her home with her. Her Aunt had been one of the people that had been buried on T2.

What luck, what fucking luck, she though bitterly. She was so close to having a real family and it had been shot to hell, all because of a cargo ship accident. Jack knew that Imam would have taken her in and cared for her as if she were his own daughter. But he was going to New Mecca and she really had no desire to spend the rest of her days on a planet fueled by faith. She had lost her faith many years ago when her mother had thrown her out of their house because her father had raped her. Jack had no intentions of staying with them anyway. But it still brought tears to her eyes to know that her own mother would do that to her. That's why she dressed and acted like a guy. Guys had it way better then girls did. Guys could travel all over the galaxy and never be hassled one time, but a girl would be lucky if she was still alive by the end of one journey. So that's what she did, she became a guy and hot-rodded as a stowaway around the galaxy, from one slum to another.

Jack got up and started pacing around the small cramped area, affording one last glimpse of Riddick in the process. She really did wish that Riddick would take her with him. But she knew it was futile to wish for, even if he was still buzzed off of the newfound redemption that Fry had offered him. He didn't want some Teenaged cross dresser on his hands. He was a loner, always was and always would be. A loner with a past darker then Jack's could ever be, and her's was pretty dark. She had even had the great displeasure of killing a few people along the way. Not that Iman or Riddick would ever find out about that facet of her life. She wasn't ashamed of what she did but she wasn't proud of it either. Their were a lot of things that she was not proud of doing but this near death experience had showed her something...people could change. Hell, Riddick went from only thinking about himself to rescuing a holy man and a girl even after he absolutely had to.

Jack plopped down in the copilot's chair and stared at the passing stars. Hell, maybe I can change too, she mused as sleep captured her.


	2. Riddick's POV

Title: The Past's Dark Touch

Pairing: None, Riddickcentric

Summary: Riddick's thoughts after the skiff takes off.

Disclaimer: I do not own Jack, Riddick, Iman, Fry etc. If I did Riddick would be my personal sex slave ;).

Status: Complete

His mind wandered back to Carolyn as he set a course that would take them back to the shipping lanes. She had carried out the ultimate sacrifice; she had died for them. She had risked her life for the trio of survivors, and in the end she had been dragged into a merciless void of savage monsters. Riddick didn't fool himself. He knew she was no saint, she proved it when she so willingly tried to purge all the passengers, like so much cargo, to save her own ass. But people changed; she changed, and in the end she had found her redemption, through sacrifice. Riddick only hoped that his redemption wouldn't come at a price so high.

He gingerly rose from his seat and limped over to a cabinet in the back of the skiff. On his way he caught a glimpse of Jack asleep in the co pilots seat and Iman on a cot further back in the rear of the skiff. He moved quietly as not to wake them.

He reached in the cabinet and pulled out a med-kit. Blowing the dust from it, he opened the ancient medical kit. Inside were the barest of supplies, surgical needles and thread, antiseptics and minor anesthetics. Shit, he thought as he hobbled back to the pilots seat, med-kit in hand. This'll just have to do.

Riddick laid the kit down and cautiously lowered himself in to the chair. He wasn't a stranger to pain, never had been. He had even had a few that came close to it, but he had forgotten how much it hurt.

For the first time since he boarded the skiff, he really inspected the damage that the predators had caused him. On his upper thigh there was a deep gash; the bleeding had stopped but the flesh had turned an angry red; the first signs of infection.

Riddick scoffed, softly to himself, Surprised the fucking thing doesn't have to come off. He said referring to the mud and alien gunk that had been caked into the wound. He dreaded having to clean and stitch this wound. It would take all his concentration to take the pain while he sowed it closed, and the anesthetics we minor ones; they merely dulled the pain at best. He reached for the bottle of antiseptic and opened it.

He turned hearing Jack stir beside him.

"Riddick?" She began quietly, eyeing his mangled thigh.

"What is it, kid?"

"Do you need any help with that?" The girl inquired, moving forward in her seat.

Riddick sat back, bottle still in hand. He stared intently at the eager girl. Besides Carolyn and the holy man, she was the only other person that had any type of faith in him. She believed him to be her hero, her savior. He was non of those things though, no, he was just a man, an extremely fucked up man, but just a man non-the-less. And yet Jack had shaved her head and donned a pair of black goggles just like his to imitate him. She worshipped the ground that he walked on; all in an attempt to be like him. If they hadn't been in the situation that they were in now he would have found that amusing. Somebody actually wanted to be like him. He though, each would distinctly clear in his mind. He knew underneath though, that Jack was just a scared little girl, whose veneer had crumbled around her. He knew a little bit about that, all his life had been on big front to survive. Yeah, he knew where the girl was coming from; they were alike the pair. Both hiding behind a charade, to keep people at arms length.

Riddick roused himself, flashing a momentary grin Jacks way, "Yeah, kid, I could use some help." He mumbled, handing Jack the bottle of antiseptic.

Jack climbed out the co-pilots seat and knelt by Riddick's left thigh, and carefully began to clean his wound.

He laid his head back against the chair and closed his eyes. He didn't know what was going to happen to them, the skiff could very well end up as their tomb, but he hoped, for Iman, and Jacks sake that someone would come along and find them...


End file.
